The Pretty Chorus Girl
by shorty90
Summary: Meg is destined to be the star at Coney Island's show - the man she loves reveals a new singer's arrival that pushes their relationship to the edge. One shot, M/E. Please R&R. Set after PotO/before LND  musical sequel .


Meg Giry was bored of waiting for her life to begin. She was bored of constantly being under the control of her mother, the choreographer and all-round bitch. She was bored of waiting for him to notice her, to give her what she wanted – what she _needed_. She couldn't take it anymore.

For now, she was the star of the show. Sat at her backstage dressing table, she began unpinning her long golden hair, letting the ringlets fall gently around her heart-shaped face. The hair pins went back into the little pot next to the box that contained her make-up. Her hair brushes and combs were lined up neatly alongside the pot. This was the most control she had in her life.

The door opened and her mother stepped in, closing the door behind her quickly.

"Yes?" Meg asked, pretending she was concentrating on pulling out the pins from her hair.

"He is pleased," her mother said, her strong Parisienne accent coming through in her English. Meg stopped. She placed her hands on the dressing table and looked up into the mirror at her mothers' reflection.

"He saw?"

"Yes."

"And… he is pleased with the show?"

"Yes."

Meg turned around on her little stool to face her mother. She did not find that her mother had aged since they left Paris over ten years ago. Her face was still set in a displeased, almost sarcastic, expression, her lips pursed and left eyebrow raised a little. Wherever she went she commanded fear and respect. Meg didn't want to be like this woman, but couldn't be without her either.

"He will come again tomorrow to see you, and will give us his new ideas for the production. Now you should get some sleep. Straight to bed, Meg Giry."

Her mother turned to leave.

"What did you think?" Meg asked.

With her hand already on the brass door handle, her mother turned to face her.

"I agree with him. I, too, am pleased."

In one swift movement, she opened the door, left the dressing room, and closed it behind her again. Meg was once again left alone. Turning back to the mirror, she returned to the tedious task of unpinning and brushing her hair.

She would not change what she did for anything. Performing was quite literally all that she knew. As a child and young girl she had danced at the Opera Populaire in Paris, starting as a ballet dancer and working up to some minor roles in their productions. After the fire and the relocation to Coney Island, she'd finally become a major player in the main shows at the funfair, singing and dancing. She wanted to be a star – she needed to be a star.

"Meg."

She froze.

"Meg Giry…"

She closed her eyes. She was tired, that's all. She was imagining things. She opened her eyes again and there he was, stood behind her. Meg gasped, dropping the pin that was in her hand. It fell onto the carpet below.

"I understand you received my message."

"Yes, master."

"As Madame Giry said, I was most pleased with your performance. However, there will be a slight change to the production," he said, in that eerily soft voice that belonged only to him.

"Yes, there are a few creases that need ironing out, especially in that second number. I'm not sure what I was thinking…" Meg began to ramble.

"I don't mean to upset you, Meg, but there will be a bigger change than a few lyrics or dance moves."

"Oh?"

She turned slowly to face him, her fingers curling around the bottom of her stool as though she were physically bracing herself.

He smiled. She hated when he smiled. "You will be singing in support of a special guest, Meg."

"But… I, I don't understand, I am the star…"

"For now. There is a bigger, brighter star than yourself. A star so bright that no one could ever replace her…"

Meg's eyes widened in realisation. "Christine… Christine…"

"Christine…" he whispered in reply. Meg shook her head.

"No. No, not this again, I can't take this again…" She flew across the room at him. "All these years I've worked for you, bent over backwards to do everything to please you and you want to replace me with Christine? She's not even here! She went off with Raoul and you know it. They got married in Paris and could be anywhere by now! She doesn't love you… She doesn't… She doesn't care about you…"

Meg took his hands in her own. "I love you."

"And I love Christine. You must have known?" he asked.

"I tried…" she whispered. "I tried to help you forget. Why did you think I helped my mother protect you in Paris? I was the one who suggested we come here, as a place for you to hide, to blend in, to go unnoticed… Away from Christine and her Vicomte… Away from that damned opera house and everything about her!"

"She was your friend, Meg."

"She destroyed you," Meg said, "She took away everything that made you who you are and went off with Raoul and left you. I found you! I sent the others away, I protected you! Why can't you see that you mean more to me than you did to her?"

Meg leaned closer to him, as though to kiss him, but he stepped away. He took his hands away from Meg's, causing her to stumble.

"She is my Angel of Music. You're nothing but a pretty chorus girl who slept her way to the top. You're nothing, Meg Giry, and I owe you nothing. You don't love me. You never did."

Tears stung Meg's eyes as he made his way to leave. It wasn't true. None of it was. She had somehow fallen in love with this talented man who composed so beautifully and created many great things in his world. She had so desperately wanted to go with Raoul on that night in Paris, to make sure no harm came to him, and she had stopped the mob from ripping him apart with their bare hands after all he had done trying to get to Christine. She had loved him, and she hated that he wouldn't believe her.

"I kidded myself for a while that I could forget her, because I had you. But I can't. How can you forget your Angel of Music?" he asked, half laughing at his own words. He opened the dressing room door. "You should move your things into the girls' dressing room for tomorrow's show. Ms Daae will need this room."

He left, closing the door behind him and leaving Meg alone.

The tears tumbled down her cheeks as she covered her mouth with her hand to stop her sobs from echoing around her dressing room. Christine had got everything once again, but this time she wasn't even in the vicinity. She had the voice, the handsome Vicomte, and she had _his_ love…

Not again. She wouldn't stand for it again.

Meg Giry would have revenge.


End file.
